


The Lives of Mortal Men

by writterings



Series: Mortality [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Old Jaskier | Dandelion, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26438176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writterings/pseuds/writterings
Summary: Geralt knew that humans aged.But he never really considered the fact that Jaskier might - but thankfully, he's not too late.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Mortality [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921816
Comments: 10
Kudos: 138





	The Lives of Mortal Men

Geralt knew that humans aged. 

But he never really considered how fast they did or in what ways. He supposed that was somewhat his curse of being a Witcher - he lost so much of his humanity, that he forgot basic human things like how time passed for them, or how they ended up evolving over time. 

But, thankfully by some kind of divine intervention, Geralt did _remember_ in the back of his mind that mortal men lived and aged. He supposed that he did have his adopted daughter Ciri to thank for that. She had dragged him to enough funerals over the years for people she had apparently made friends with, and had watched as they aged and she didn’t. It always tore at his stoic Witcher heart to see his daughter go through the pain of loss, and he selfishly was grateful that he would not go through the same thing himself as he had no friends. 

That was, until he remembered Jaskier. 

It took him a moment for this thought to fully dawn upon when he finally realized it, that Jaskier was mortal. Honestly, the bard seemed so goddamn ageless that it never came to mind. He looked twenty at forty, and thirty at nearly fifty. Perpetual babyface for his whole life, and the personality and attitude to match. 

It had been forty years since Geralt had last seen him. It had been after the dragon hunt, on top of the mountain. When he had screamed insults and hurtful words at him - his oldest friend, the only person who had stuck by him. 

Geralt had pushed him away from a place of hurt and blamed all his troubles on him, due to his own inability to acknowledge his emotions and process them in a healthy way. 

And only now was he coming to that realization. 

He knew what he had to do.

Geralt hunted Jaskier down. Asked about him in every town or city he visited. Even went to Oxenfurt once or twice. But there was no sign of the bard. 

His bard. 

That was, until, he came up the estate of Lettenhoven and found a child outside with a familiar set of blue eyes and a charming, yet almost grating, personality that matched a certain someone’s. 

The girl had greeted him and asked if he was a Witcher, like her grandfather told stories about. When he expressed confusion to the child, she rolled her eyes in a familiar way - a way that reminded him of his bard - and brought him to her parents.

He met Jaskier’s daughter and son-in-law. They were courteous enough, made a few pleasantries, and then sat him down in a parlor alone, at a small tea table with cushy chairs, and said “Lord Julian” would see him soon. 

Geralt waited all but ten minutes before an old man burst in through the door, nearly knocking it off its hinges, and stalked over to where Geralt was sitting. 

His hair was a mix of white and gray, though still luscious and full. His skin was wrinkled and aged, but there was still a vitality behind his blue eyes - something that denoted a youthful playfulness despite his demeanor. He held himself with honor and pride, like a man who had fought for his life several times and knew that he had earned the right to live. 

“Geralt,” the old man said, in a voice that was familiar in its tone but not its pitch, which was deeper and a bit cracked with age. “You son of a bitch! What the hell are you doing here?”

It took Geralt a moment to realize he was staring at Jaskier. 

“I….” Geralt started as the old man huffed and went to sit across from him.

“Took you long enough! I knew you would seek me out someday, you ass! Didn’t think it would take until I was old and gray, though.” Jaskier chuckled, not unkindly. His eyes were glimmering with happiness. He held a hand up to his own gray locks. “We match now, eh?”

Geralt stared on, unsure of what to say or do. Jaskier seemed to be enjoying his discomfort - almost reveling it, by the looks of his grin. 

“So, what are you doing in my house, Geralt?” 

Geralt had faced countless monsters and men in battle. He had almost lost his daughter several times over the years to infection and wounds. He had almost watched his brothers and mentor get torn apart by a beast, while he lay helpless to do anything to save them. 

And, yet, he found himself facing Jaskier for the first time in forty years to be among these most frightening moments in his life. And Geralt did not scare easily. 

He tried to think of a response as the old man - apparently Jaskier - waited patiently. 

The last time Geralt had seen Jaskier, he had expressed how much he annoyed him. How much he wished that bard wasn’t in his life. How much he, well, hated him. 

And it was true - the bard was an annoyance. There were parts of him the Geralt couldn’t stand. And there were parts that Geralt downright hated.

But...the bard was worth it, he soon realized after many years and many talks with Ciri before his journey to find him. In fact, he found that he couldn’t even hate or find annoying parts of the bard when he considered how much Jaskier meant to him. 

Jaskier was perfect in every way, including the ways in which he annoyed Geralt. If Geralt was willing to actually admit it openly, he would say that he  _ loved _ Jaskier. But he was not ready to admit that. Maybe give it another ten years. But he had realized and acknowledged it. 

But had he done so too late?

“I...came to apologize,” Geralt finally said. He did not look at Jaskier’s face, and instead gazed out the window they were seated next to. He could see Jaskier’s granddaughter running around with a dog on the land in the back of the property. “I wanted to express how sorry I am for the way I spoke to you at the mountain.”

Geralt hung his head, still not looking at Jaskier. 

“You’re sorry?” Jaskier asked, and Geralt could not discern his tone. 

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said. “I am sorry for how I spoke to you. How I treated you. How it took me this long to say these words. Jaskier, I….”

He wasn’t sure what else to say.

Jaskier suddenly started laughing. Loud, whooping laughs that wracked his whole frame and quickly turned into a coughing fit. Geralt’s head whipped up and he watched as his friend nearly keeled over from what could only be described as pure amusement. 

It took a moment for Jaskier to calm down, but his aged face was still flushed and his eyes were bright when he looked at Geralt. “Wow,” he finally said, grinning. “You really are an ass, aren’t you?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Forty years! Forty years, Geralt. I have changed so much in that time,” Jaskier said, with an exaggerated eye roll. “I had a wife, as well as a few various lovers - with her consent! I have a daughter and a granddaughter. I’ve fought in battles. I helped change our current governing system. I was a renowned professor at Oxenfurt. I’ve written books. I’ve composed the most popular songs of the century!” 

Jaskier was still grinning as he said all this, though it was obvious he was not bragging - Geralt could see the point he was trying to make already. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier finally said. “Do you really think I’m still hung up on something you said to me when I was a young man with a fragile heart? I spent most of my youth following you around - but I have lived a full life. Without you.”

There was no bitterness in his tone as he said that final line. He was merely stating facts. 

Jaskier sighed. “I appreciate the apology. I had…always hoped you would eventually come around.  _ Always _ .” He smiled at Geralt, this time denoting a hint of sadness. “Thank you.”

Geralt remained silent. 

“I’ve supposed you’ve changed too over the years, huh? Though you look exactly the same to me.” Jaskier’s aged, but bright, eyes roved over Geralt. “ _ Exactly _ the same.”

Meeting his eyes for the first time, Geralt could see the pain and the loss Jaskier had experienced over the years. The love he had felt for people Geralt would never know. All the knowledge he had gained and all the experiences he had been through. Geralt saw that there was a story in his eyes, about how the man before him came to be.

But Geralt did not know this story. He did not know this man. He did not know Jaskier. 

The stranger, Jaskier, was smiling kindly at him. 

Geralt sighed. “I...have changed. I have also have a daughter now. Here name is Ciri, and she is also a Witcher. I love her more than life itself. She is my everything. And...she helped me realize how important this was.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “Important?”

“They say Witcher’s don’t have emotions...but I have found that as false.” Geralt paused. “You are important to me. You are my friend. And…”

Geralt stared into those blue eyes. The eyes he did not know. The eyes of his bard, who had seen too much.

“I’m sorry for missing your life,” Geralt finally said. “Especially since you had wasted so much of it on me.”

Jaskier stared at him, and then slowly reached across the small table between them and took Geralt’s hand. 

“It was not a waste,” he said, sharply. “Never think that. I would do it all again.”

“But I still missed your life.”

Jaskier closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He gave a squeeze to Geralt’s hand. When he opened his eyes, he was smiling softly. “But you’re here now.”

Geralt wasn’t sure if he was supposed to squeeze Jaskier’s hand back or not. So he didn’t. But Jaskier did not remove his hand. 

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Jaskier said.

“I would like to stay for longer than that,” Geralt replied.

Dinner was awkward. Jaskier’s daughter had apparently inherited her father’s extrovertedness and easily held conversation, but between her nervous husband and Geralt, there were many silent pauses. Jaskier seemed phased by none of this, and almost seemed to be enjoying it. He kept a hand on Geralt’s knee almost throughout the entire meal. 

After dinner, there was music - both by Jaskier, his daughter, and a few short songs by his granddaughter. Geralt pretended to enjoy this, but frankly still hadn’t learned anything about music over the years. 

They had moved outside to the courtyard at that point and had popped some bottles of wine. Jaskier’s granddaughter was running around the yard with her dog again. The sun was setting in the horizon, and Jaskier was laughing at something his daughter had said. He had a hand on Geralt’s shoulder now, as if holding on to make sure that he was really there. 

Jaskier’s granddaughter suddenly came running up to them. She had her grandfather’s bright blue eyes and easy smile. She had a fistful of dandelions and slowly passed them out to everyone in the group. 

Jaskier took his and stuck it behind his ear. Geralt followed suit. 

“Pretty!” Jaskier’s granddaughter had said and then ran away to play with her dog again. 

Jaskier turned to look at Geralt and smiled. “It does look rather fetching, if I do say so myself.”

“Hm,” Geralt said, as he smiled. He felt Jaskier squeeze his shoulder and felt the warmth from his hand. He never realized before how much he had missed human touch. 

Jaskier’s touch. 

Geralt knew that humans aged. 

But, for the first time in his too-long life, he wished that he was able to relate to them; to understand how time passed to a mortal. 

Because maybe then -  _ maybe  _ then - he would have been able to get his head out of his ass sooner and apologize to Jaskier. His bard. And actually be there for his life. 

But he was here now. And, glancing over at his aged and wizened bard, he knew he would be here for the rest of it. 

He owed Jaskier, and himself, that at least.

**Author's Note:**

> this is unbeta'd and i literally posted right after i wrote it. i originally wrote the first of this series while drunk. this one i wrote sober, but mostly tbh i am in a fit of depression. ive lost a few people recently - both in terms of fights and death - and writing always helps me process stuff. so! yeah.
> 
> lowkey (highkey) want to turn this into a mutli-chaptered fic but i'm already working on one and i have two jobs, five classes, and a million other things going on as well lol
> 
> [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjr4wfnVmpE) was the song i was listening to as i wrote this :')
> 
> thanks for reading <3


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